


Assigning Blame

by postapocalyptic_cryptic



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angry Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Angst, Arguing, But also, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fainting, Hurt/Comfort, Jon freaks out a bit, Jon just says fuck this shit im out, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Needs a Hug, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pet Names, Pre-Relationship, Season/Series 03, Tim is Not Nice but I do not hold it against him, Touch Aversion, Touch-Starved, Trauma, he's not a bad person he's just in a bad situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postapocalyptic_cryptic/pseuds/postapocalyptic_cryptic
Summary: Tim pushes a bit too hard. Jon panics and passes out. Martin picks up the pieces.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 373





	Assigning Blame

Tim doesn’t mean to get so angry. Really. Martin will never believe him, but he didn’t set out to terrorize anybody, not even Jon. It’s just… It’s just, Jon comes in to ask him for help with a new research project. Jon comes in and he’s stuttering even more these days. Jon comes in and Tim’s been having a  _ bad fucking day.  _ Jon comes in and asks Tim for help with a computer program and Tim nearly tells him to ask Sasha about it. 

Jon comes in and Tim sighs, dropping his head into his arms and groaning, “What do you  _ want,  _ Jon?”

There’s a beat of silence and Tim nearly looks up. Then, “Ah, I was just- I have a new- A statement giver came in today and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Fucking spit it out, Jesus Christ,” Tim snaps, sitting up so quickly that Jon nearly trips in his haste to back away. “What?”

Jon looks at the floor. “I have a new statement about the Circus, and I was wondering if you’d mind doing some follow-up on it.” 

Tim sighs, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He’s so tired. He’s always tired these days, and he doesn’t want to look at another fucking statement about another fucking life being ruined by the fucking Circus. “I actually do mind, Jon, thanks for asking.” 

He glances up in time to see Jon wince and wishes he’d just stayed down. “Oh, um. Okay.” Jon has no idea how to respond to Tim’s denial and Tim’s beginning to wish he’d never said it. What was the point? He was going to end up doing it, so why had he said no? Why was it so confusing to Jon? “Ah, I guess, um, I’m your boss. So, I’m telling you to do it. That’s an order.”

Oh, what the  _ fuck.  _ “An  _ order?  _ Wow, starting to throw our weight around, are we?” Tim drawls. Jon takes another step back. “What are you gonna do,  _ Boss,  _ fire me?” 

“Tim, I- I just, please don’t-”

“Now you’re going to start ordering me around like you’re the big boss when we’re in this position because you had no fucking clue what you were doing?” Tim says, voice rising. “It’s your fault we’re stuck here, and you’re going to pull the  _ Boss  _ card on me?” Tim’s just at the end of his rope. He can’t take it anymore. Distantly, he realizes that Jon’s got his hands up, tangled together at his chin like he hasn’t done around Tim in  _ years,  _ like he’s fucking  _ afraid of him.  _ Jon’s afraid of Tim when Jon’s the monster, when Jon’s the killer when “This is all your fucking fault, and you’re going to try and guilt trip me about it?” Tim stands up. 

“No, I’m not trying to-to guilt trip- not trying to guilt trip you about it,” Jon stammers. “I just-just-just need you to get this done. Please.” Jon takes two or three steps back and then hits the wall, leaning against it with trembling legs. “It’s important, Tim. We have to stop the Circus, you know we do-”

“Oh, so now you’re trusting me with the important stuff? I’m not the enemy anymore? That sounds a bit like manipulation, doesn’t it, Jon?”  _ Shut the fuck up,  _ the calmer part of Tim hisses.  _ Make him hurt like you hurt,  _ the larger part responds. “You’re probably just trying to get us all killed.”

Jon’s eyes harden and Tim thrills at the thought of an actual fight. He stands up straighter, facing Tim and opening his mouth like he’s finally going to put up a fight, argue back and give Tim something to rage against like he so desperately needs to. Then, Tim makes a mistake. 

It’s just one mistake, really, just one little thing that he wasn’t even thinking about, something he never would have hesitated to do back in the day. Because back in the day, there wasn’t all this…  _ this  _ between them. Back in the day, Jon never would have been afraid. 

Tim reaches out to put a hand against the wall next to Jon’s head. 

Jon makes a noise like a frightened animal and lashes out hard, slamming his palms into Tim’s sternum and sending him reeling back. Then, he drops to the ground, sliding down the wall in a shaking mess. 

“No, no, no, no, leave me alone please leave me alone don’t hurt me don’t hurt medon’thurtmenonono  _ please…”  _ Jon’s shaking and breathing hard and Tim’s just standing there, totally at a loss. He doesn’t want to get closer, doesn’t want to move in case he makes it worse.  _ Like you could make it any worse than it already is.  _

“What’s going on in here?” 

Martin. Oh, thank  _ fuck.  _ Martin will know what to do. Tim looks up to where he’s standing and gestures helplessly to the puddle Jon’s devolved into. “He just… I didn’t mean to…”

“Oh, Christ,” Martin mutters, shooing Tim out of the way and dropping to his knees in front of Jon. “Get out of here if you’re not going to be helpful, or at least sit down so you’re not scaring him.” Martin snaps at Tim in a way that makes it abundantly clear that he knows what has happened. 

Tim doesn’t leave, just takes a few steps back and settles on the floor as Martin gets to work. 

“Jon? Jon, can you hear me, love?” Martin keeps his distance, not touching Jon as he heaves his way through another desperate breath. No response. “Okay, that’s okay. I need you to know that you’re safe right now. I’m here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” 

“I-I-I can’t-  _ Martin,”  _ Jon sobs. “Sorry, ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean it…”

Martin’s face falls. “I know, Jon. I know. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I did, I did, I ruined everything because I’m bad.” Jon pulls at his hair. 

“You didn’t, love, I promise,” Martin soothes. “Can I touch your hands? I don’t want you pulling your hair.” 

Martin reaches out and Jon makes another one of those awful noises. “No,” he screeches, flinching back so hard he slams his head into the wall. “Don’t- sorry, I didn’t mean- pleasepleasepleasestop.”

Martin pulls his hands back. “I’m sorry, Jon, I won’t do that again. It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jon’s shaking his head back and forth and back and forth, over and over again. Tim feels strangely distant, empty. This should be affecting him more.  _ You did this,  _ he forces himself to think.  _ Look how miserable you made him. You broke him. This is your fault.  _ He feels… something. Anger. Regret. God, he doesn’t know. 

“Jon, love, I really need you to calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Martin looks genuinely worried now. “Can I try touching you again?” 

Jon doesn’t respond other than to launch himself forward into Martin’s lap with a force that nearly knocks the both of them over. He wraps his arms around Martin like a vice, forcing Martin to rearrange them until they’re leaning against the wall. 

“Okay, we can do that. I’ve got you, sweetheart. Please try to breathe for me, alright? Please try to calm down.” 

From this angle, Tim can see the tears in Martin’s eyes. 

* * *

Jon doesn’t end up calming down. In fact, the hyperventilating just keeps ramping up until he suddenly goes limp in Martin’s lap, face against his shoulder and arms lowering to his sides. Tim raises his eyebrows and Martin puts a hand under Jon’s chin to look at his face. Martin frowns, rubbing a knuckle against Jon’s cheek before tucking his face gently back into Martin’s shoulder. 

“He passed out,” Martin says, voice low.

Tim cringes. “Is that… like, okay?” 

Martin sighs. “I guess? There’s not much we can do about it.” In his arms, Jon stirs. Martin tips his head up again, patting Jon’s face gently and stroking his hair away from his eyes. “Hey, there. You with me, love?”

Martin’s deliberately shielding Jon from Tim. He’s got his hand on the back of his head and his arms around his shoulders, keeping Jon from turning around. Tim thinks of Jon’s shaking hands and teary eyes and  _ “please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,”  _ and stays quiet. 

Jon murmurs something Tim can’t hear and Martin tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “No, no, you’re alright, Jon. I’ve got you. You’re okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Jon says something else and Martin smiles softly. “I know. Go back to sleep, alright? Get some rest.” He helps Jon readjust on his lap until Jon’s comfortable. His legs are straddling Martin’s hips and his arms are around his shoulders and his face is tucked into the crook of Martin’s neck and it’s so intimate that Tim looks away for a moment. 

Martin sighs again, heavier this time, and Tim looks back. He’s got his chin resting on Jon’s head and his arms around him and it shouldn’t be possible for him to look so serious in such a ridiculous position. It’s Martin, though, so he does. Tim’s on the receiving end of a rather spectacular glare, actually. The hand carding through Jon’s hair, catching in the tangles and pulling them apart gently, doesn’t stop as he watches Tim. “He’s terrified of you, you know.”

Something in Tim’s gut twinges. He’s so angry. He doesn’t have room for pity right now. “Yeah, well, it’s Jon. He’s terrified of everything.”

“ _ Tim,”  _ Martin scolds. “He’s- He used to be your  _ friend,  _ Tim. He still cares about you. And he’s scared.” Martin rubs Jon’s back as if to soothe himself and Jon at once. 

Tim bites his lip. Anger sloshes around behind his ribcage, seeping through his diaphragm and mixing with the horror in his gut. He doesn’t know what to say. He never knows what to say anymore. “I’m… I’m sorry, I suppose.” He is, for a lot of things. Not for making Jon cry, though. He wishes he was. 

“Yeah, well, that’s not going to undo what’s been done to him.”

Tim didn’t do that, though. 

Tim doesn’t know how to undo that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Me: yeah I just don't vibe with Martin I'm not going to write him  
> Me five minutes later: 
> 
> Anyways hit me up down below or on tumblr @postapocalyptic-cryptic-fic! Have a great day and I love you all.


End file.
